


Here For You

by Purple_Turtle



Series: Little Slice of Heaven [3]
Category: White Collar (TV 2009)
Genre: Age Play Little Neal Caffrey, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Caregiver Elizabeth Burke, Caregiver Peter Burke, Daddy Peter, F/M, Infantilism, Little Neal, Littles Are Known, Mommy Elizabeth, Non-Sexual Age Play, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:53:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28574814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Purple_Turtle/pseuds/Purple_Turtle
Summary: “El, honestly,” Neal tried to reassure her. “I don’t feel Little at all.”Elizabeth raised her eyebrow and Neal tried not to squirm under her ‘Mommy’ look. He shook his head with a small chuckle and returned his attention to the magazine.“Look, even if I did feel a drop looming – which I don’t! – why should it stop you from attending your event? You’re only going to be out of town for the weekend. If I drop – I’ll have Peter.”“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Elizabeth admitted, a hint of teasing to her tone. “You’d have Peter pulling his hair out.”“I do that anyway – I don’t need to be Little to be able to do that!"  Neal beamed.-X-Elizabeth is heading out of town for the weekend. She's slightly concerned that Neal will need to drop when she's gone.But, Neal isn't anywhere near his headspace. That is until he falls ill.
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke & Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke & Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey, Elizabeth Burke/Peter Burke, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Little Slice of Heaven [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1268051
Comments: 24
Kudos: 93





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Woo - this has been a LONG time coming!! I'm so sorry!!  
> I have thought about this series a great deal over the last 2 years!! I hadn't even realised it had been that long until I got a couple of really lovely comments that just relighted my fire and just gave me that push that I needed to get writing for this series again!!  
> If you're new here - welcome!!  
> If you're here from before - hello again!!  
> I've got at least 3 stories for this series in the works, and I have many more ideas written down!! So there's a lot more incoming!!  
> Hope you all had a wonderful new year and that you're all staying safe!!
> 
> P.S. Just to let you know - When Neal is Little he will chop and change between calling Elizabeth "Mommy" and "Mama" at whatever age he's currently regressed to. And he also calls her "Mama" when he's Big, as an enderment or a tease.  
> Any mistakes are my own!!  
> Enjoy!! <3 <3

“Mama?”

Elizabeth looked up at the currently-7-year-old boy, who was sat on a playmat in the middle of the living room. She was close by, at the dining table, finishing off the last-minute plans for the 3-day long charity event that Burke Premier Events had been hired to execute this weekend.

“Yeah, Peanut?” She answered softly, dropping her pen onto the table to give the Little her full attention.

“When’s Daddy coming home?”

Elizabeth let her eyes glance to the wall clock, instinctively, as if it would give her all the answers she needed. However, Peter’s job meant that he worked all sorts of hours, at the drop of a hat and that wasn’t always the easiest thing to explain to the Little. Luckily though, Peter _had_ to be home tonight. It was Thursday, which meant it was one of Neal’s Little days, and Elizabeth was being picked up later that very evening by Yvonne so that they could both be in Florida early enough to start prepping the event ready to go for the launch tomorrow night. So, with Neal still scheduled to be Little, and with Elizabeth heading out of town, Peter didn’t really have much of a choice; he would have to be home by 6 tonight, at the latest.

“Uh – well,” She mused over her answer. “I’m not completely sure, baby. But he’ll be home in time to make you some dinner and read you a bedtime story.”

“Oh,” Neal frowned. Elizabeth watched him for a moment before holding her arms open.

“Come here, baby,” She encouraged, sweetly. Neal scrabbled to his feet and climbed almost tenderly into her lap. She wrapped her arms around him securely and took a moment to just hold him close. “D’you want to call Daddy? You can ask him when he’s coming home then.”

The Little nodded his head but didn’t make any other movement. He was being a tad clingy, but Elizabeth just soaked it all up. It wasn’t very often that Neal needed either of his Caregiver’s in this way – and Elizabeth loved it. She pressed a soft kiss to Neal’s temple and then reached across the table to snatch up her phone.

“Here you go, Peanut,” She soothed, handing him the phone once she’d started dialing Peter’s number. “It’s ringing.”

Neal wedged the phone between his ear and Elizabeth’s shoulder. She listened as Neal waited for Peter to answer.

 _“Hi El,”_ The man’s voice answered after a moment. He sounded busy, and the background noise of the office made it clear that Peter was down in the bullpen.

Neal started giggling.

_“Neal?”_

“Hi Daddy,” Neal greeted gently.

 _“Hi!”_ Peter replied, tone shifting to a more upbeat one. _“Just me one second, buddy,”_ He instructed kindly. Neal then listened as Peter muttered something to someone else before the sound of a door clicking shut echoed down the line, followed by the sounds in the background falling silent. The man had obviously taken himself up to his office. _“Okay, I’m back. What you up to, Cowboy? You okay?”_

“Uh-huh,” Neal answered, rubbing his eye with a closed fist. Elizabeth noticed and wondered whether Neal might benefit from a short nap after lunch.

 _“Where’s Mommy? Does she know you’ve got her phone?”_ Peter asked, not unkindly. It wasn’t unusual for Neal to swipe one of their cell phones without them realising.

“Yeah!” Neal defended himself, clearly outraged that his Caregiver could accuse him of such a thing. “She said I could!”

 _“Well, that’s alright then,”_ Peter chuckled.

“When are you coming home, Daddy?” Neal interrupted before Peter could finish his sentence.

 _“Coming home?”_ Peter parroted. _“Well, I’ve got a little bit of paperwork to finish up here. But I’ll be home in time for dinner. And hey – it’s just you and me tonight, Cowboy! Daddy was thinking he could stop by that fancy burger place you like and bring some burgers home for tea. And maybe we can watch that new Disney movie before bedtime. What do you think?”_

“I can have the cheeseburger one?” Neal asked, so sweetly – trying and failing to hide the excitement in his voice at Peter’s plans.

_“Of course. With bacon?”_

“Yes please, Daddy!”

_“Okay, Cowboy. But, you gotta be super good for Mommy, okay?”_

“Okay, Daddy. I promise!”

 _“Good boy,”_ Peter praised. _“I’m sorry, baby, but Daddy’s got to go. I’ve got lots of boring paperwork to do if I want to be home in time for burgers and movies. Can I talk to Mommy quickly?”_

“Okay, Daddy,” Neal sighed, clearly disheartened. After all, all he wanted was his two Caregivers home with him. “Love you tonnes, Daddy.”

_“I love you tonnes too, Cowboy.”_

Neal then dutifully held out the phone for Elizabeth. He said nothing, but the woman seemed to know what was happening. She took the phone and pressed it to her ear.

“Hi Peter,” She greeted, more so that her husband knew that he was now speaking to her. She hummed as she listened to him. “Yeah. Well, I think we’re tired. Yeah – that’s what I was thinking. Not that I think a certain someone will be happy about it… you know how he gets.”

Neal rolled his eyes sassily, settling his head into the crook of Elizabeth’s neck. He knew they were talking about him being tired – and they were debating whether to put him down for a nap. But, he didn’t need one! Maybe he was a tad tired, but he didn’t want a nap – nor was he Little enough to need one.

“Oh wow!” Elizabeth called. Neal’s ears perked up at her overly chirpy tone. “Burgers? Well, someone is a very lucky boy. Mm-hmm. I’ll be sure to keep my eye out for good behaviour. Of course, if I see any trouble making, I’ll let you know.”

“I’ll be good!” Neal cried, his heart sinking for a moment with the thought that Daddy might not bring burgers home if he thought that Neal was going to be causing mischief.

“I’m only teasing, Peanut,” Elizabeth assured him, with a gentle tickle to his tummy. Neal relaxed back into her hold and let the two Caregivers talk between themselves for a minute before Elizabeth was saying her goodbyes.

“Okay, Hunny. See you later. Love you.”

For a moment, the Little and the Caregiver just enjoyed being close. Neal was completely relaxed against Elizabeth and didn’t realise that he’d started dozing on her shoulder.

“Are you tired, sweetheart?”

Neal snapped his eyes open, feeling absolutely drained. He felt like he could sleep for a week. And his head was starting to feel a little funny.

“No,” He lied, in true Neal fashion.

“Really?” Elizabeth asked her tone suggesting that she didn’t believe him one little bit. “Are you sure?”

“No,” Neal whined. “I’m not sleepy, Mommy.”

“Okay, okay,” Elizabeth shushed, realising that the boy was just working himself up. “If you start feeling tired, will you let Mommy know? Then maybe we can both go and have a lie down together?”

“In the big bed?” Neal asked, sounding optimistic. It wasn’t very often that Neal was invited into her and Peter’s bed, which the Little had dubbed ‘the big bed’. It wasn’t that the two Caregivers had anything against bringing their Little to bed with them – it was more the fact that the double bed just simply wasn’t made for three.

“Of course,” Elizabeth beamed at him. Neal wasn’t the easiest Little to get to agree to have a nap. They usually saved _‘naps in the big_ bed’ for when they were really desperate and had tried everything else, but with the boy so obviously exhausted Elizabeth didn’t think it would hurt to bring out the big guns so early on. It usually didn’t take long for Neal to agree to nap if he got to sleep in the ‘big’ bed. “And Mommy’s got a busy weekend coming up, so she could use a little nap too.”

“Okay,” Neal agreed. He yawned. “But only if I start to feel tired.”

“Absolutely,” Elizabeth agreed, biting back her chuckle at just how adorable he was. She didn’t think the boy would hold out longer than 10 minutes before he was asking to go upstairs to nap – not with the promise of sleeping in the big bed.

For a moment, Neal stayed curled up in Elizabeth’s lap. He started dozing off again, not quite asleep, but not far off. Elizabeth let him stay there, using one arm to keep him secured in her hold and using the other to pick up the pen and make an amendment to the plans laid out in front of her.

It was serenely quiet. Neal was a fraction away from properly dropping off to sleep on Elizabeth’s shoulder when the dog moved from under the table and made towards his bowls. He started lapping up water nosily, causing Neal to stir with a groan.

“Mama?” He asked, a little confused.

“Oh baby,” Elizabeth cooed at him, hands cupping his face. “Look at you; you’re so tired.”

“No,” He pouted. “I’m not, Mama. I promise.”

“Neal Caffrey,” She scolded gently, her heart not really in it. It wasn’t fair to be too harsh on him when he was so obviously tired. “Don’t you lie to Mommy.”

“I’m not,” He whined, dramatically, throwing his head back.

“Okay Peanut, okay,” She shushed him. “Do you want some lunch?”

“No,” Neal grunted, crossing his arms. Elizabeth wasn’t about to correct him or tell him off for his lack of manners like she usually would, but Neal quickly realised that he’d missed them. “No thank you. I’m not hungry.”

Elizabeth frowned. Neal wasn’t hungry? When he was Little, it was a given that he was _always_ hungry.

“Not hungry, Peanut?”

“Nope,” He shook his head. “I just wanna watch cartoons. Please Mommy.”

“Go on then,” She said with a small kiss to his temple. She’d make him something to eat in about 20 minutes and then bundle him upstairs for a much-needed nap. “Do you want Mommy’s help turning the TV on?”

“I can do it,” Neal told her with a yawn and slid carefully from her lap. He moved around the toy cars that were still laid out on his playmat from earlier and took the TV remote. Elizabeth watched him tenderly as he put his favourite channel on and then snuggled into the corner of the couch.

“I’m right here if you need me, Neal, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” Neal yawned again, barely looking in her direction.

Elizabeth let herself focus back on her work, but kept half an eye on her Little. Neal shuffled about on the couch for a moment before he seemed to find a comfortable position, lying on his side. His eyes never strayed from the TV, as the theme tune of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles played around the room. Satchmo moved over to Neal and curled up alongside the couch and before Elizabeth knew it, Neal was fast asleep.

She shook her head fondly at her stubborn boy. She stood up and made her way over to him. Taking the TV remote, she turned the volume down slightly, but left the show running. Next, she pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and carefully laid it over Neal. The Little sighed in his sleep, but simply turned his face towards the back of the couch and kept on sleeping.

Elizabeth’s heart swelled. She couldn’t stop smiling at them both. She quickly snapped a couple of pictures with her phone and sent them all to Peter so he could gush over them both too before she returned to the table and really settled back into her work. She was sure her boy would sleep for at least an hour – that would give her enough time to finish up her plans and start gathering together a few bits for her trip.

However, it was only 10 minutes later when a loud knock on the front door roused them all. Elizabeth jumped, Satchmo started barking, but wouldn’t leave Neal’s side and Neal promptly sat up, clearly having been ripped viciously away from a lovely, much needed, deep sleep. He was confused and didn’t look happy one little bit. Elizabeth knew she was going to be dealing with a _very_ cranky boy this afternoon.

“Satchmo,” Elizabeth scolded the dog. “Quiet boy.”

The Labrador did as he was told almost immediately, but he didn’t look too pleased. Instead, he sat dutifully beside Neal. The Little in question turned squinted eyes in her direction. Whoever was at the door knocked again.

“It’s okay, Peanut,” Elizabeth reassured him as she walked past the couch towards the entryway. “It’s just someone at the door. Why don’t you lie back down?”

She didn’t wait to see whether Neal followed her instruction before she opened the door.

“Who was it?” Neal asked once she’d shut the door. He was big. There was no denying it, Elizabeth could read Neal almost as well as Peter could since becoming his full-time Caregiver. It was in the way he sat, the way he talked, and in his body language. It didn’t bother Elizabeth that her Little boy was now her Big boy, but what did bother her was that Neal was still so clearly exhausted.

“Just a delivery man,” Elizabeth explained, placing the big box beside the door. Neal wasn’t Little enough to need diapers very often, but when Elizabeth had been cleaning in Neal’s Little room the other day, she’d noticed that they were running dangerously low and had placed an order with their usual company, just in case. She didn’t elaborate on this though, choosing to sit next to Neal on the couch and pull him into her arms. “D’you want to drop again?”

Neal didn’t even need to think about it and shook his head. Sometimes, when he was asked that very same question, he agreed. He was quite good at recognising when he was close to the edge, especially after settling in with the Burke’s as his Caregivers, but right now he felt as far away from his headspace as he could get. The only thing he was sure about was that he’d been torn away from his Little headspace and uncaringly shoved into his big one in about 0.4 seconds. It left him with a headache and a horrible fuzzy feeling right behind his eyes.

“No,” He admitted. “I want some headache tablets though.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Neal hummed, not making to move from Elizabeth’s arms. Even when he was big, being in close proximity to his Caregiver’s was beneficial to him – and besides, he kinda liked it. “I’ve got a splitting headache.”

After some tablets, Elizabeth reheated some leftovers for some lunch. Neal didn’t eat very much of it, instead choosing to push the food around his plate. When Elizabeth questioned him about it, he put it down to his headache. He excused himself before Elizabeth had even finished her plate and went to lie down upstairs in his room.

-X-

Elizabeth was packing her suitcase almost 2 hours later when Neal made his reappearance.

“El?”

“Neal!” She called over to him, spinning on her heel. She engulfed him in a motherly hug which he sunk into. “How you feeling, Peanut?”

“A little better.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear it. C’mon, you can sit in here if you like?”

Neal did just that, taking up residence on Elizabeth’s side of the bed. He picked up the wedding magazine that was on her bedside table and flicked through it, noticing that the woman had circled the things she liked for a wedding she was planning on the side.

Even with his headache, Neal noticed that Elizabeth was chewing on something.

“What’s wrong?”

Elizabeth looked up at him, clearly not having expected the question. She smiled at him.

“Oh, nothing really.”

“Come on,” Neal pressed kindly. “What is it?”

“Well, it’s just that, it’s supposed to be your Big weekend,” Elizabeth explained as she folded a shirt and placed it in the open suitcase on the bed. “And I’m just worried that because you haven’t managed to get all your needed Little time this afternoon that you might have to drop while I’m gone over the weekend.”

“El – I’m fine. I mean, don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t expecting to snap out of my headspace so soon today, but right now I’m nowhere near needing to drop again.”

Elizabeth looked at him, trying to figure out whether he was bluffing.

“Are you sure, Sweetheart?”

“El, honestly,” Neal tried to reassure her. “I don’t feel Little at all.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrow and Neal tried not to squirm under her ‘Mommy’ look. He shook his head with a small chuckle and returned his attention to the magazine.

“Look, even if I did feel a drop looming – which I don’t! – why should it stop you from attending your event? You’re only going to be out of town for the weekend. _If_ I drop – I’ll have Peter.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Elizabeth admitted, a hint of teasing to her tone. “You’d have Peter pulling his hair out.”

“I do that anyway – I don’t need to be Little to be able to do that,” Neal beamed, the very truth of that confession filling him with a sudden burst of happiness.

“You can say that again,” Elizabeth chortled, suddenly unable to wipe the huge smile from her face. She clicked down the lid of her suitcase and then stepped up to Neal just as he gave up on the magazine and slapped it back down on the bedside table.

“Neal?” She asked, voice soft and kind. He looked up and her with his wide, innocent eyes that made her melt. “You’d tell me if you were feeling close to your headspace, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course, I would,” Neal spoke truthfully. He then cheekily added, “Mama.”

“Alright, alright,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes playfully at his retort. She placed a hand on his shoulder before moving up to cup his cheek. “I just worry about you, Pumpkin.”

“Worry about me?” Neal shook his head, disbelievingly. “Nah, Mama – it’s Peter you need to be worrying about!”

-X-

Neal sat on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. The TV was on, but merely for a bit of background noise. Neal’s headache was pounding and he was so tired that he felt like he’d only had two hours sleep and then pulled a 48-hour shift at the office.

He had his head tilted back, and his eyes closed, trying not to feel sorry for himself. He’d spent the afternoon pretending he felt better than he actually did so that Elizabeth didn’t feel any reason to stay at home this weekend. That in itself was exhausting.

The sound of the woman walking down the stairs caught Neal’s attention and he sat up straighter and made it look like he’d been listening intently to the news anchor babbling on.

“All set?” Neal asked, looking up when she reached the bottom step. She placed her suitcase near the front door next to her handbag.

“I think so,” She nodded. “Yvonne will be here any second. Have you heard from Peter?”

Neal picked up his phone and checked it methodically, even though the thing hadn’t chimed with a phone call or text message. He shook his head.

“I’m sure he won’t be much longer though.”

And as if the devil himself had summoned him; Peter waltzed in through the front door.

“I made it!” Peter declared, dropping his briefcase and engulfing his wife in a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t get home sooner, Hunny. It’s been a hell of a day.”

“Well, you can leave all that behind for the weekend, Mr. Burke,” Elizabeth charmed him, smoothing down the shoulders of his suit. “It is, after all, Daddy and Neal’s weekend.”

“He Little again?” Peter asked, before looking over Elizabeth’s shoulder and spotting the man in question on the couch. Elizabeth had text him earlier that afternoon to tell him that the boy wasn’t Little anymore. Neal smiled at him cheekily and raised his hand in greeting. “Apparently not.”

“Mmmm,” Elizabeth agreed, slotting herself under Peter’s arm and spinning on her heel so they were both observing their Little.

“I brought burgers!” Peter told Neal, holding up the paper bag with the restaurant’s logo on it. Normally, Neal had no doubt that his stomach would be growling in want and hunger, but the smell didn’t do anything for him today. In fact, he was pretty sure that in this very moment he couldn’t imagine anything worse than eating the cheese and bacon burger that Peter had brought home for him.

“Brilliant,” Neal cheered enthusiastically, painting a smile on his face, still keeping up the charade that he was okay.

“Why don’t you go grab us some beers?” Peter ordered lightly. Neal jumped from the couch and rushed into the kitchen, glad to have an excuse to drop the façade – even if it was just for a second.

He took two bottles of beer out of the fridge, but purely for decoration purposes. Sure, Peter would drink one, but Neal wouldn’t even open his – he knew he’d barely stomach the burger that was waiting for him, let alone a beer as well.

He placed the two beers on the table and stopped to listen to his Caregiver’s talking. He closed his eyes as he focused on their words – finding that in itself a tiring task.

“He had 10 minutes on the couch earlier this morning,” Elizabeth was muttering quietly to Peter, obviously with the intention of Neal not hearing them. “He’s been Big ever since. Look, Peter – he says he’s nowhere near his headspace, but he was barely little for 3 hours today. He’s also got a headache, and he’s obviously so tired. I wouldn’t be surprised if…”

“I can hear you,” Neal called over to them, not unkindly. He couldn’t stand listening to her carry on until she convinced herself and Peter that she needed to stay home. He was determined not to keep Elizabeth from her work this weekend. He would be fine. He slipped his mask back on and stepped back towards the couch so that he could see his two Caregivers. “I can tell you right now that I am as far away from my headspace as I’m likely to get. I would be highly surprised if I had to drop this weekend, El. I think it’s safe to say that it _will_ be the Big weekend we scheduled it to be. Also, my headache is almost gone and yeah, I’m tired – but I’ll just have an early night. Please, El – you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Okay, sweetheart,” Elizabeth nodded with a soft smile. A knock on the front door sounded around the house. “I’ll try not to, okay?”

As Peter answered the door, smiling and inviting Yvonne into the entryway, Elizabeth clicked her heels across the hardwood floor to Neal who eagerly engulfed his Caregiver in a hug.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Elizabeth whispered to him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” Neal smiled at her, repaying her kiss with a soft one of his own pressed to his cheek. “I look forward to it. Have fun, okay?”

-X-

Over their burgers, Peter filled Neal in on the case he’d been working that day.

Peter tried to overlook the fact that Neal hadn’t even opened up his beer and had taken only three bites of his burger before he started picking it apart and nibbling on it half-heartedly.

When Neal didn’t speak up the moment Peter admitted that he could have done with Neal’s help a number of times that day, he knew something was up.

“Neal?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

Neal looked up at him dumbly as if only just realising that Peter was talking to him.

“What?”

“What’s wrong? You’ve barely touched your food; you’ve not opened your beer and you’re not even gloating over the fact that I just admitted that today was harder without you.”

It seemed to take a moment for Peter’s words to sink in, but before his very eyes, Peter watched as Neal slipped a mask on. He sat up straighter, he forced his face to look brighter and he put on his biggest smile. But, before he could speak and pretend that everything was fine, Peter cut across him.

“Oh, cut the crap, Neal.”

“What?”

“I know somethings up. Now, tell me honestly; what’s wrong?”

Almost as quickly as Neal had put the mask on, he slipped it back off again. Peter waited impatiently for Neal to find the confidence to speak up.

“I feel crap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter spoke softly. He thought over his words carefully before progressing. “In what way? El said you had a headache, but you said it was almost gone…”

“I lied,” Neal admitted sheepishly. When Peter gave him his ‘Daddy’ look, Neal hurried to defend himself. “I lied because Elizabeth would have stayed home if she’d thought that there was something wrong. I don’t want to be the reason that this event falls through.”

“It wouldn’t have fallen through – that’s what Yvonne is for,” Peter muttered before continuing. “And besides, I would highly doubt that El would have stayed home just because you had a headache.”

“You didn’t see her,” Neal informed him. “I spent all afternoon trying to convince her that I’m nowhere near my headspace.”

“Did you lie about that too?”

“No!” Neal all but snapped. His head was pounding and he clearly had a very short fuse. “Peter – you know I don’t lie about that! Not anymore!”

“No,” Peter agreed guiltily. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have -”

“Yeah, well,” Neal waved him off and returned to his previous point. “I’m sure that if El knew how bad my headache actually was… _is_ … she’d have convinced herself that it was a sign I had a drop incoming. And then she would have stayed.”

Peter didn’t say anything, because he knew Neal was right. He would have done the same if the roles had been reversed.

“Okay. Look, disregarding all that – how bad is your headache?”

“I feel like my head is about to be split in half,” Neal grunted, closing his eyes and tipping his head into his hands. The position put him closer to his unfinished, now cold burger and the scent of it made his tummy take an unexpected turn. He pushed it away.

Peter noticed, but didn’t say anything.

“When did you last take some painkillers?”

“Lunch time,” Neal muttered, trying to subtly take some deep breaths to try and stop himself from heaving.

“Lunch time,” Peter repeated, looking at his wristwatch. He nodded. “Okay. You get yourself upstairs and ready for bed.”

“What?”

“You’re exhausted Neal – and sleep should help your head too,” Peter explained standing up. Satchmo lifted his head at his movement with a groan and looked at him expectedly, waiting for some food to be dropped to him. “You go and get ready for bed. I’ll bring you some tablets.”

Neal stayed sat for a moment before he gave in. Lying down in bed and sleeping sounded absolutely wonderful right now.

-X-

Neal could barely remember taking the tablets Peter brought him, but he remembered Peter. The man had to help him out of his clothes and into some sleep wear and made sure that he got under the covers instead of allowing him to pass out on top of them like he’d wanted to.

When he woke up, the house was quiet. The alarm clock on his bedside table told him that it was barely 11 pm and Neal didn’t know what had woken him up. He still felt rubbish, turned over and let himself fall back to sleep.

It was 2 hours later that he woke again. This time his sheets were damp and he had broken out in a cold sweat. His tummy was churning and he felt sick. He held his tummy as he squirmed into a more comfortable position. He didn’t care that he was still laying in wet sheets and fell back into a fitful sleep.

When he woke at 3.42 am for the 7th time that night, he knew immediately that he was about to be sick. He was on his feet so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t have vertigo and in the blink of an eye he was in the bathroom heaving up the contents of his stomach into the toilet.

He crashed to his knees, sobbing. He hurled twice more before there was a loud knocking on the door.

“Neal?”

At the sound of Peter’s voice, Neal choked back a sob. He hadn’t realised that he was so close to his headspace but the sound of his Caregiver’s voice sent him crashing over the edge, _hard_.

He wailed.

“Daddy!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought I'd come back with a bang!! A 2 part story!!  
> Part 2 is in the works and hopefully should be posted by the end of this week!!  
> Predictions - what age is Neal going to be regressed to??  
> Much love to you all!! <3 <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Two.  
> Or, the one where everyone is either being sick or sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I said last chapter by the end of the week. Well, it IS the end of the week, just two weeks later. Sorry about that!!  
> I've loved writing this, but it took some time. I wrote bits and pieces and then rewrote them because they didn't seem right the first time. Still not sure about this now, but I think I've got it to a place where I'm happy with it.
> 
> Thank you so much for your kind words!!  
> Hope you enjoy this chapter just as much as last one!!

** Here for You – Chapter Two **

That one word was all the invitation Peter needed. He barged into the bathroom, took half a second to assess the scene before him before he dropped to his knees in front of Neal.

“Dah-dee,” The boy choked on a sob, shuffling himself closer to Peter and falling clumsily into the man’s chest.

“Oh, Cowboy,” Peter shushed, gently wrapping his arms around his boy, rubbing soft circles on his back. Neal grabbed fistfuls of Peter’s t-shirt and hid his face in his Caregiver’s shoulder before letting go of an onslaught of tears. Peter didn’t care that Neal was sticky with sweat or that he was rubbing his tears, snot, and vomit into his clothes – all he wanted right now was to hold his poorly boy close until he was all better; Peter could clean himself up later.

It was obvious that Neal was Little. Peter was quite confident that he had dropped into a much younger headspace, but it was currently impossible to tell just how Little Neal really had dropped while he was in such a state.

Peter quickly made a mental checklist of what he needed to do. First things first was to calm Neal down; the boy was working himself up so much that he was only going to make himself sick again.

“Hey,” Peter shushed, placing a hand on the back of Neal’s head and massaging the boy’s scalp. “Come on, Sweetheart. Daddy’s here. Daddy’s got you, Cowboy.”

They stayed like that for some minutes, Peter continuing to mutter sweet nothings to the Little in his arms until Neal started to calm some.

“Dah-dee?” The boy hiccupped, raising his head to look at him through thick, wet eyelashes.

“Hi, my sweet boy,” Peter smiled tenderly. “You’re a bit poorly, huh?”

At that assessment, Neal’s eyes swam with more tears.

“My poor baby,” Peter cooed. “C’mon sweetheart, Daddy’s going to get you all cleaned up, and then we can have a cuddle in the big bed – yeah? How does that sound?”

Neal hummed, letting his head fall back to Peter’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, clearly exhausted and ready to go back to sleep. Peter shushed him before he readjusted his hold on the boy and stood up.

Neal wasn’t expecting to be moved and he cried out, latching his arms desperately around Peter’s neck.

“Hey – Daddy’s got you,” Peter promised, manoeuvring Neal onto his hip and rubbing a soothing hand up his back. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

“Dah-dee,” Neal whined, sniffing and snuggling back into his hideout in Peter’s shoulder.

“I know, Cowboy. Daddy’s going to make it all better.”

Peter took a step forward, dropped the toilet lid, and flushed it, making a mental note to give it a proper clean when he got a moment. As he did this, Neal froze in his arms. Peter’s first thought was that Neal was worried he’d be dropped again – but then Peter felt a wet patch begin to grow on his clothes and he quickly realised that Neal had wet himself.

“Okay baby,” Peter hushed, not at all bothered that he now had sick and snot on his shoulder and urine on his hip. It wasn’t the first time that Neal had lost control while Peter had been holding him, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He crossed to the bath and fiddled with the taps until he was happy with the lukewarm temperature of the water. “I think both Neal _and_ Daddy need a bath, huh?”

Neal sniffed and started twirling the hair on the back of Peter’s head around his fingers. He stuck his other fingers in his mouth, which made Peter grimace. There was no denying it, Neal was a _lot_ younger than he’d first thought. He was barely saying anything, he was sucking on his fingers and he hadn’t even flinched when he’d wet himself.

Neal couldn’t be much older than 14 months. It had been a long while since his boy had dropped into such a young headspace – and of course, it had to happen when El was out of town. Peter was more than confident in his role as Neal’s Caregiver and didn’t resent the fact that Neal was a baby right now. Caring for a Little was a literal part of his biology and he could and would take care of Neal with all the love and care the boy needed and deserved, with or without Elizabeth. It just would have been much easier with the other Caregiver present.

As the bath continued to fill, Peter gathered everything they’d need for a quick rinse in the bath, making sure to place Neal’s orange fox towel on the heater to ensure that it was warm when they stepped out of the water.

Peter’s next step was stripping both himself and Neal out of their dirty clothes. The quickest and easiest way to do that would be to put the baby down for 2 minutes while he got them both undressed. However, when Peter began to lower Neal to sit on the toilet seat, the boy started screaming.

“Dah-dee!” He wailed, latching both his arms and legs around Peter as if his life depended on it. The boy sounded so utterly heartbroken that Peter couldn’t find it within himself to continue with plan A and quickly switched to plan B.

“Okay, Cowboy,” Peter shushed him, gobbling Neal back into his arms. “It’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

Peter sat himself on the toilet and settled Neal in his lap before he started undressing them both. Neal wasn’t impressed, but Peter kept cooing at him and reassuring the poor thing that everything was okay.

Once they were both as naked as the day they’d been born, Peter threw their dirty clothes in the laundry basket and stepped into the bath. The water was barely waist deep and was cooling quickly. Peter grabbed a soft flannel and lathered it up with some gentle-on-the-skin Little soap and started washing Neal down.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Neal whined and shifted, but Peter worked quickly and efficiently and they were both barely in the bath for 5 minutes before the plug was pulled and Neal was wrapped up in his warmed hooded-fox towel.

Peter struggled to tie a towel around his waist one-handed, but eventually, he managed.

“Come on then, Cowboy,” Peter mused. “A diaper, some Tylenol, a bottle of water, and then some cuddles with Daddy in the big bed. Sound like a plan?”

Neal hummed, his fingers back to playing with the hair at the base of Peter’s head.

The first thing Peter did upon reaching the nursery was locate a soother. Neal took it almost greedily, his eyes fluttering shut as he pulled some desperate sucks on it to try and calm himself.

“There’s a good boy,” Peter shushed, also snatching up the taggy blanket that was folded neatly at the end of the bed (which could easily be transformed into a crib if needed but currently wasn’t). He offered this to Neal too, who took it just as eagerly, rubbing it across his face and sighing almost happily, through his nose.

“Okay, sweetheart. Daddy’s going to dry you off and put a diaper on you now, Neal. Okay?” Peter forewarned the boy, unsure just how much information he was really taking in. With Neal so Little, it was hard to tell.

This time, when Peter lowered Neal onto the changing mat, Neal didn’t fight it. He sat up straight and let Peter towel him dry. He complained with a whine when Peter ran the towel gently over his head to try and dry his hair some, but the Caregiver merely shushed him kindly while he finished.

“All done,” Peter declared, once Neal was completely dry. He put the now damp tower at the end of the changing mat and started gathering the items he needed for the diaper change. “Diaper next, Cowboy.”

Neal was starting to get fidgety, and Peter knew he was about t-minus 2 minutes before the Little was demanding to be back in his Daddy’s arms.

“It’s a good job Mommy was clever enough to think ahead, hey Cowboy?” Peter mused to Neal, although he was mostly thinking out loud, remembering the text El had shot him yesterday lunch time to tell him about the delivery of diapers they’d just received. He began expertly going through the motions of putting the diaper on Neal. “If she hadn’t had ordered those diapers that came yesterday, Daddy doesn’t know what he would have done.”

“Dah-dee,” Neal complained from behind his soother.

“I know, my sweet boy,” Peter shushed him, sprinkling some baby powder before pulling the diaper up between Neal’s legs. “We’re almost done.”

He then quickly dressed Neal in a simple, pale blue onesie that Elizabeth had brought, thinking it was highly amusing. The front read; _“I’m cute. Mom’s hot. Dad’s just lucky.”_ Peter pretended to hate it, but they all knew that it was actually one of Peter’s favourite things to dress Neal in when he was this Little.

“Daddy really is lucky, hey Cowboy?” Peter chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Neal’s nose before lifting him from the changing mat and settling him comfortably in his arms.

Neal was practically asleep on Peter’s shoulder by the time they got down to the kitchen. Peter hummed a lullaby as he moved around the kitchen, making up a bottle of cool water.

“Neal?” Peter hushed, jostling the boy gently to stir him once he’d got a medicine syringe full of Tylenol ready. Neal grumbled and tried desperately to return to his Daddy’s shoulder, but Peter wouldn’t let him.

“Dah-dee,” He sobbed, face screwing up and tears starting to fall silently down his face.

“I know, buddy,” Peter tried to reassure him, gently pulling the soother from Neal’s mouth with a soft pop. The boy whined at its loss. “Daddy’s got some medicine to help make you feel all better.”

Neal tried to turn his head away from the syringe, the moment it touched his lips, but Peter was persistent and emptied the liquid paracetamol into the boy’s mouth. Neal swallowed on instinct and then broke down into heart-wrenching sobs.

“Daddy’s sorry, Cowboy,” Peter shushed, dropping the syringe into the sink to wash up in the morning.

Then he settled on edge of the couch. He rearranged Neal in his hold until he was cradling him across his lap and was in a better position to offer him the water. Just like with the medicine syringe, Neal tried to dislodge the bottle with a few simple turns of his head.

“Just a little, Neal,” Peter tried to encourage. “Come on, sweetheart. It’ll help – Daddy promises.”

Eventually, Neal took a few experimental pulls on the nipple and then settled enough to happily drink down some of the water. Peter didn’t let him drink too much or too fast, knowing that, that was just a sure way of ensuring another bout of vomiting. When he felt that the baby had had enough, he pulled the bottle away, chuckling kindly as Neal tried to chase it with a whine.

“I know, baby,” Peter shushed, offering him back the soother. “Come on – let’s go to bed.”

He decided to take the bottle of water with him, along with a bucket (even though he thought a bucket was a tad optimistic while Neal was so Little).

Satchmo was still on his bed in the corner of the master bedroom when they entered, and Peter scoffed.

“Thanks for your help there Satch,” He spoke sarcastically to the dog, who held his head up at their appearance.

Peter shushed a grumbling, mostly asleep Neal as he lowered him onto Elizabeth’s side of the bed. Satch got up and sat next to the bed, resting his chin on the mattress next to Neal, looking over the boy with sad eyes.

“He’s okay, boy,” Peter patted the dogs head as he crossed the room to the cupboard, in search of clean pyjamas. “Well, he will be.”

It was just as he was pulling a clean t-shirt over his head that Neal stirred again, seeming to realise he’d been put down.

“Mama?” He whined, clearly confused as he blinked and tried to survey his surroundings. Peter’s heart broke for the boy. He wasn’t upset that the boy was calling for Elizabeth over him. He was after all, on the other Caregiver’s side of the bed, surrounded by her scent. And there was also the fact that Elizabeth was as big a part of Neal’s life these days as Peter was. Elizabeth was important to Neal - both in his Little space and his Big one.

Peter shushed him as he climbed into the bed.

“Dah-dee?” Neal asked, looking at him through big, wet, tired eyes.

“Daddy’s here, buddy,” Peter assured him, bundling him into his arms. Neal relaxed almost immediately, resting his head on his Daddy’s chest and letting his eyes fall shut. Peter pulled the blanket over them both, patted the bed in invitation to the dog (who jumped up and curled himself up at the end of the bed with his head resting on Neal’s feet), and shuffled into a more comfortable position.

Peter was absolutely exhausted, but felt far from sleep. He’d been in bed since about midnight, but he had only managed to get about 2 hours of shut-eye (he never did sleep as well when El was out of town) before he’d woken by a slamming door, and Neal’s retching.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was now only 4.26 and Peter sighed. He needed to sleep – it was going to be a long weekend.

With Neal well and truly asleep against him, the sounds of his breath deeply relaxing Peter, the man allowed himself to finally drift off.

40 minutes later, Peter woke up to the sound of Neal heaving again, following almost immediately by the feeling of the vomit soaking through his t-shirt and the crying of a poorly Little.

“Fuck!” Peter cursed as he was ripped from his dreams. He never usually swore, let alone when Neal was Little – but he couldn’t stop his reaction to such a rude awakening. It took a second to really register what had happened.

Slowly, he sat them both up. As he did so, Neal threw up again – just missing the dog who jumped off the bed and slid out the bedroom door. The sick ended up in Neal’s lap and all over the bedsheets.

There wasn’t quite as much vomit as last time, Peter noticed; and it was mostly bile, considering the boy had pretty much emptied the meager contents of his stomach a little over an hour earlier. There might not have been as much as last time, but they were both covered in the stuff and the Caregiver knew that they needed another trip to the bath.

He peeled himself and Neal out of their soiled clothes, stripped the bed and then proceeded to go through the same motions as he had earlier. A quick bath, a clean diaper, fresh clothes, some water, and (as it was barely half 5 in the morning) cuddles in bed – except this time it was in one of the two guest bedrooms as Peter didn’t have the time or the energy to remake the bed in the master bedroom right now.

Neal didn’t go back to sleep as quickly or as easily this time, and Peter held him close.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He cooed, drawing circles on Neal’s back with gentle fingertips. He felt so utterly helpless, and the way Neal shifted every so often and groaned in discomfort from behind his soother made Peter feel even worse.

His thoughts went to Elizabeth. The woman had mentioned to him a few times that she was worried Neal was going to drop this weekend. Both Peter and Neal had put it down to the fact that she was going out of town and was worrying about nothing.

Elizabeth had called last night when she’d got to her hotel room. She’d asked after Neal, but as she’d expected him to be, he was already in bed. Even then, she quizzed Peter on Neal’s behaviour – trying to figure out whether her Little was slipping into his Headspace from over 1000 miles away. But at the time, he really hadn’t been. Peter tried to convince her even then that Neal was just tired and had a headache.

 _“I’m sorry,”_ She’d apologised. _“I just – I have this feeling that he’s going to drop while I’m away and it’s eating me up inside.”_

Last night, Neal had told him that he wasn’t anywhere near his headspace, and Peter had believed him. He still did. Last night Neal _hadn’t_ been anywhere near his headspace. Peter hadn’t sensed anything, and as Neal said – he didn’t lie about his Little side anymore. And yet, Elizabeth had known something was going to happen.

“Mommy seemed to know something was up, hey Cowboy?” Peter whispered into Neal’s hair, more to himself. How had Elizabeth sensed a drop coming, but Peter hadn’t? That thought made him, as a Caregiver, feel utterly useless. It made him feel like he’d let Neal down.

“Dah-dee?” Neal sniffed, tilting his head so he could look up at Peter, but not raising it from the man’s chest.

“Yeah, Cowboy?” Peter asked, picking up on the questioning tone in Neal’s voice. He wasn’t expecting Neal to say anything though; the boy was Little enough that his language was severely limited; he’d only managed to mutter the word ‘Daddy’ and the one ‘Mama’ since he’d dropped earlier. But Peter still paid Neal the respect of replying to him.

“Lov-es yoo.”

Peter’s heart swelled and he would be lying if he said he didn’t fight back the sudden sting of tears. Just when he’d been doubting himself, his boy came out with his declaration of love and it made Peter realise that he _wasn’t_ useless, and that he certainly hadn’t let the Little down.

“I love you too, Neal,” He promised, sealing it with a kiss to the boy’s forehead. He thread his fingers through Neal’s hair and started singing. His voice was low and off-tune, but it relaxed the baby enough to slowly send him off to sleep.

Peter followed him soon after.

-X-

It was barely 7 am when Peter was woken again. This time, thankfully, it wasn’t with a lapful of vomit. However, it was to a crying baby.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Peter yawned, wondering whether Neal was feeling nauseous again, and glanced around for the bucket in case he needed it. But it was as he shifted to ensure said bucket was within arm’s length that he smelt it.

Neal had messed his diaper.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Peter shushed and clambered out of bed, taking Neal with him. “Let’s go clean your bum.”

As Peter cleaned Neal up, he tried not to grimace. The poor babe had suffered a loose bowel movement and it neither looked or smelt very pleasant. Peter did find himself contemplating whether waking up to this was in any way better than the shower of vomit. Neither was preferable to Peter, let alone to the poor babe who was suffering through it all.

Peter quickly got Neal taped up in the last clean diaper sitting on the shelf (making a mental note to bring the newly delivered box upstairs the next chance he got) and then took him downstairs. Even though Peter wanted to no nothing more than crash out, he decided that perhaps a change of scenery would do them both the world of good. And besides, they could go for a nap in a few hours.

Peter moved and completed tasks slower than normal thanks to the fact that Neal still refused to be put down. He sulked in Peter’s arms as the Caregiver let the dog out into the back garden, started making a pot of coffee for himself and a bottle of formula for Neal.

Neal took a few tentative sucks of the formula before he pulled a face and pushed it away.

“No,” He whined when Peter tried to offer it to him again. But the Little was having none of it and before Peter knew it Neal was screaming at the top of his lungs and flailing around to avoid the bottle so much that the Caregiver just gave up.

“Okay, okay,” Peter shushed, putting the bottle on the coffee table and rearranging Neal in his lap. The boy went willingly, legs either side of Peter, straddling him, and rested his head on the man’s shoulder as he continued to cry. “Daddy’s sorry, baby. It’s gone now. Hey, come on. It’s okay.”

Peter flipped through the TV channels before settling on a colourful, cheery sounding one meant for children and Little’s of Neal’s current age. He set the volume to low in the background and spent the next 10 minutes calming his babe.

“Dah-dee,” Neal sobbed, back to twirling Peter’s hair around his fingers as he sucked on his soother and clutched his taggy blanket in his other hand.

“Daddy’s here, sweetheart,” Peter promised with a whisper and a kiss to the boy’s temple. “Daddy’s got you.”

Neal’s wet eyelashes fluttered and he let a breath out of his nose, and in the next second he was drifting off to sleep.

Peter relaxed against the couch cushions, sipped his coffee, and barely listened to the overly-cheery voice of the woman on the TV who was singing the alphabet. His thoughts got away with him as he considered the different ways the day could go from here. He considered calling Diana and asking if Christy could come and check him out (the Dr was, after all, a Little specialist), but decided against it for the time being. Neal was probably just suffering from a tummy bug and would be feeling a lot better in the next day or so. If he wasn’t, _then_ Peter would call the Dr.

An hour later, Peter was dozing himself, when a phone began to ring. Neal blinked sleepily at the disturbance and grumbled when his Daddy shifted forward to pick the cell off the table.

“It’s okay, Cowboy,” Peter hummed a hand in Neal’s hair as he closed his eyes and relaxed against him again. Peter glanced at the ID of the caller quickly before pressing the call button and pressing it to his ear.

“Hiya El.”

 _“Well, I was going to say good morning,”_ The woman’s voice chirped down the phone. _“But you sound exhausted.”_

“You have no idea,” Peter yawned as if to prove her point.

_“What was it? Up all night working, or restless sleep?”_

“Neither,” Peter admitted. “I was up most of the night with Neal.”

 _“With Neal?”_ Elizabeth asked, her tone cautiously curious. Peter knew that if he didn’t tell her that their boy had dropped, she’d work it out herself in next to no time. _“Why?”_

“He’s not well,” Peter explained simply. There was no point beating around the bush. “He’s been sick twice, had one loose bowel movement, and…” He paused. “He dropped.

 _“He dropped?”_ Elizabeth repeated, the worry evident in her tone. _“How young?”_

“About…” Peter took a moment to look at the sleeping Little in his arms. “14 months.”

_“14 months? You’re sure?”_

“Well,” Peter trailed off, tone slightly teasing. “He’s currently sat in my lap, in a diaper and a baby grow, with a soother and his taggy blanket, asleep on my shoulder. So yes, I’m sure.”

Elizabeth let out a breath.

_“He hasn’t been this young in ages.”_

“I know.”

_“So much for him not being anywhere near his headspace.”_

“No. I don’t think he was lying when he said that last night,” Peter defended the boy kindly. “I think one of the reasons he dropped into such a young headspace was because it was so sudden and unexpected. Also, pretty sure it was a hard drop.”

 _“My poor boy,”_ Elizabeth shushed. _“Oh, Peter. Do you need me to come home?”_

“No,” Peter shook his head, adamant about that one thing. “No – I’m okay, honestly.”

_“Are you sure? He’s really young and poorly. I can get on a flight back home within the hour and be home by mid-afternoon.”_

“El, please,” Peter reassured her. “We’re okay.”

 _“Okay,”_ Elizabeth sighed reluctantly. _“Just… keep me updated on how he is. If he gets any worse, I’ll be on the next flight home.”_

“Yes mam,” Peter chortled, knowing that there would be no way to stop the strong-willed woman.

For another 10 minutes or so, they chatted about Elizabeth’s plans for the day. Before they said goodbye, Elizabeth made Peter promise to text her regular updates on their Little’s condition, as well as making her own promises to call when she went for lunch.

Peter couldn’t help the fond chuckle to himself as he put the phone down on the cushion next to him.

“Your Mommy,” Peter muttered to the sleeping Little. “She loves you so much.”

-X-

Neal was sat on the floor in front of the couch. The TV was playing, and he watched the talking dogs rally together to save their town, the soother in his mouth not hiding the clear scowl on his face.

He wasn’t happy. He felt rubbish. His tummy ached, his head hurt, he was tired. And his Daddy wouldn’t hold him.

Neal looked over his shoulder at the man who was sat on the couch behind him, a phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, a work file open on the couch beside him while he folded laundry. Neal couldn’t understand why the man couldn’t talk on the phone, do his work, sort the clothes _and_ hold him at the same time. It wasn’t fair.

“Okay. Run a background check and then….”

Neal could hear the words the man spoke, but they meant nothing to him right now.

“Dah-dee,” Neal whined.

It was the only warning any of them had before Neal was urging and bringing up the bottle of formula the Caregiver had managed to get him to drink a little while ago.

The milky sick was all over Neal, all over the floor and his vision blurred as his eyes filled with tears and he started to cry. His throat burned, the taste of vomit in his mouth was revolting, his diaper was suddenly wet and his clothes were sticking to him.

“Da-ah-ah-dee,” He stuttered loudly around his tears before he threw up again.

Daddy was suddenly on his knees, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Neal’s back. He was speaking, but Neal couldn’t hear the words over his own cries. He was sick a third time, but this time the vomit landed in a bucket that the Caregiver was holding.

A few minutes later, a soft wet wipe was smoothed over his mouth and chin, cleaning up the dribble of sick there. Then the bucket was moved to the side and Daddy’s hands worked quickly to get him out of the uncomfortably wet and sticky clothes he was wearing. At this point, Neal didn’t care about them and just wanted Daddy to hold him, hug him, and tell him that everything was alright.

When Neal was down to just his diaper, he was lifted from the ground. As soon as he was pressed against Daddy’s chest, Neal started to calm some.

“There’s a good boy,” His Daddy was speaking, voice soft and kind. Neal sniffed and gulped down an urgent breath. They were moving and it took longer than necessary for the Little to realise they were climbing the stairs. “Let’s get you all cleaned up, Cowboy.”

When Daddy tried to lower him into the bath water, _without_ getting in with him, Neal screamed. No! He needed his Daddy to hold him! How dare he even think about putting him down!

And then he was in the air again. He was half wet from the water, but Daddy was holding him and that’s all that mattered.

“Come on, Cowboy,” Daddy shushed. “Daddy’s right here.”

There were more words, but Neal didn’t take any of them in. He just held desperately to his Caregiver with his hands, his arms, and his legs until the man seemed to get the idea. Daddy undressed himself and climbed into the bath with him.

Neal hiccupped as he relaxed back into Daddy’s chest. He let the man gently wash him down with a soft flannel and let his heavy eyelids flutter shut.

He stirred again when he was lifted from the lukewarm water and his wet skin met the cool air of the bathroom. He whined and wailed until Daddy was cooing at him and wrapping him up in a warm towel.

He didn’t remember the Caregiver drying him off, or the diaper change. He didn’t remember being given some liquid Tylenol or the bottle of cool water to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth. And he certainly didn’t remember Daddy putting him to sleep in his crib, but that’s where he found himself when he woke up again.

-X-

Peter hadn’t really wanted to leave Neal in his crib. As a Caregiver, he wanted to be as close to his poorly Little as much as his poorly Little wanted to be close to him. But he had a huge puddle of sick downstairs to clean up and there was nowhere to leave Neal to sleep safely and comfortably downstairs while he cleaned up; he was too little right now to leave on the couch in case he rolled off. So, for now – it was better to leave the boy in his crib with the baby monitor on so he could hear the moment the babe woke again.

As soon as he’d cleaned up downstairs, he checked in on Neal who was still fast asleep. For half a second, he contemplated taking the boy from the crib and letting him sleep in his arms on the couch like earlier that morning. But he knew that Neal would wake as soon as he was moved, and it wouldn’t be a guarantee that the Little would go back to sleep. So, he put away the new diapers Elizabeth had had delivered before he left the baby sleeping in the crib and moved down the hall to the master bedroom.

He threw open the windows to try and air the room as the place held the faint smell of sick, and he remade the bed. Luckily, the mattress hadn’t been spoiled by the vomit, but the duvet had. He grabbed the spare one out of the cupboard on the landing and put in an order online for a new one.

As soon as that was done, he crept downstairs.

First, he phoned Diana, to apologise for cutting her off so rudely. He explained what had happened and the agent offered up the services of her Little specialist Doctor fiancé if he needed it. He thanked her and promised to call on Christie if he felt they needed to.

Next, he text his wife, not sure if she was available to take a call at the moment. It was just a simple message;

_‘Neal been sick again. He’s okay now – currently sleeping. Love you. xx’_

Almost immediately, Elizabeth was calling.

_“He was sick again?”_

“Yeah,” Peter sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “He brought up the formula I gave him an hour ago. First bout of vomiting since about half 5 this morning though.”

 _“My poor boy,”_ Elizabeth’s pout was evident in her tone. Peter could hear the sound of Yvonne in the background, ordering people around. _“I feel completely useless here, Peter. I want to hold my baby.”_

“I can’t stop you coming home if you really want to El,” Peter told her kindly. “But we’re managing here. We’re okay. Or we will be.”

 _“Okay,”_ Elizabeth sighed. _“I believe you. It’s just my Mommy instincts are in overdrive. But if he’s not showing any signs of getting better by tomorrow lunch time, I’ll come home early.”_

“I’m sure there’s a Little boy who would appreciate that,” Peter reassured her with a smile.

They spoke about Neal for a few more minutes before Elizabeth had to go.

Peter was hungry, his wristwatch telling him that it was almost 6, but he couldn’t find it within himself to cook anything. He picked up his favourite takeout menu and put in an order. As he waited for it to be delivered, he made up a few bottles of formula. It would be easier to grab a ready-made bottle from the fridge and warm it up, rather than have to make one from scratch – especially if Neal was crying his heart out on his hip.

It was as he was screwing the lids on the bottles that the baby monitor picked up the sounds of Neal starting to stir. He knew he had a few minutes until the boy woke up completely and decided to finish up before climbing the stairs to get him. But before he could do that, the doorbell rang.

“Damn it,” He cursed when two seconds later Neal started crying so loudly that Peter didn’t need the baby monitor to hear him. He answered the door first, hastily handing over the money and a tip for the food before abandoning the steaming bag of Chinese on the table and taking the stairs two at a time.

Neal was sat in his crib, fat tears falling from his eyes, legs splayed due to the wet diaper between his legs.

“Hey, baby!” Peter greeted cheerfully. Neal’s head spun in his direction and a fist rubbed at his eye.

“Dah-dee?”

“What’s the matter, Cowboy? Does your tummy still ache?”

Peter lifted the boy from the crib and laid him down on the changing table. The diaper change was quick and effortless, even though Neal cried all the way through. Peter bundled him back up in his arms, grabbed a story book off the bookcase within the room, and a soother before taking him downstairs.

Neal settled down in Peter’s arms, pulling on his soother and listening to the words that Peter spoke to him between bites of his food. They were just reassurances and praises, but they relaxed Neal enough that the boy was comfortable and calm.

Neal yawned when Peter moved them over to the couch. Peter has his legs up on the couch, knees bent. Neal was sat comfortably between them, his back to the Caregiver’s chest as Peter draped a blanket over them both.

Peter then opened the story book he’d grabbed back in the nursery and started to read. It was a story about a lion who had toothache and couldn’t stop roaring because it hurt so much. Peter half expected Neal to be asleep by the time they reached the end of the story, but the boy wasn’t. He turned so that he was on his side, head resting on his Daddy’s shoulder.

“‘gain,” The boy ordered softly.

“Again?” Peter parroted, surprised at the word for a moment before his face broke into a huge smile and he re-opened the book at the beginning. “Okay, Cowboy!”

They read the story a total of 4 times before Neal finally fell asleep. Peter was more than comfortable where he was, with his Little content in his arms. He flicked through the TV absentmindedly before selecting a sports channel and settling down to watch the game.

-X-

Peter couldn’t bring himself to put Neal down in his crib that evening. So, after he had helped the boy brush his teeth and changed him into a clean diaper, he wrapped Neal up in his arms in the big bed.

It ended up being an early night for the Caregiver, but it was much needed as he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Neal only woke once in the night. He had woken up grumbling and looking a little pale. Luckily, Peter had clocked the signs and managed to get the bucket in front of Neal just in time to avoid having everything covered in vomit again. It had taken almost an hour to get Neal back to sleep after that, but once he had – the Little had slept right through.

It was the ringing of his cell phone that woke them up the next morning. Peter woke first, used to waking at odd hours to the call of a fellow agent with an FBI emergency. However, it wasn’t the same chiming of his work phone – it was his personal one. He shifted to reach for it, and Neal who was practically laid out on top of him whined his complaint.

Peter took a glance over the caller ID, saw it was his wife, and answered the call as his Little fidgeted.

“Hi hun,” He yawned as he accepted the call.

 _“Hi,”_ Elizabeth’s voice called down the line. _“Every time I’ve phoned you this weekend, you’ve sounded half-asleep!”_

“That’s because I am,” Peter grunted, not unkindly as he gently patted Neal’s diapered tush. “You woke us up.”

_“Oh no! I’m sorry! I didn’t realise!”_

“S’all good,” Peter yawned again. “We were going to get up soon anyway,” 

_“Liar,”_ Elizabeth chuckled. _“How is he?”_

“He was sick once last night but slept through other than that. He’s still stirring.”

And as if on cue, Neal lifted his head and blinked at Peter.

“Dah-dee?”

“Morning, sunshine!” Peter smiled at him, ruffling the babes bed-head.

 _“Oh, I miss him!”_ Elizabeth sighed. _“I’d ask to talk to him, but I think that’s just going to upset him. Look – I’ll let you go and see to him. I’ll call later. Love you.”_

“Love you too, hun,” Peter promised her, with the same amount of truth behind those words as when he’d first said them.

“Mama?” Neal asked as Peter dropped the cell back onto the bedside table.

“Yeah, baby,” Peter told him, trying not to dwell on the subject for too long. He hoped to keep Neal distracted from the fact that his other Caregiver wasn’t currently present. “It was Mama. Come on, let’s get into a clean diaper, huh?”

“Dah-dee, Mama. Dah-dee, Mama,” Neal babbled away to himself as Peter laid him on the changing table in the nursery. The Caregiver chuckled at him, glad to see a splash of colour in the Little’s cheeks and a bit of his character back this morning.

“Someone’s a happy boy this morning!” Peter cheered as he finished taping up the fresh diaper. He pressed a kiss to Neal’s bare tummy before he covered it again with the baby grow.

“Dah-dee,” Neal beamed wide at him, the smile making Peter’s tummy somersault. He loved his Little boy with all his heart and more.

When they were downstairs, Peter let Satchmo outside and started up the coffee machine. He might have gone to bed early last night, and slept in this morning, but he still felt exhausted, so coffee was a must today.

“‘nana?” Neal asked, voice lisped around his soother, pointing to the fruit bowl.

Peter might have been feeling shattered, but that innocent question filled him with so much joy. His boy must have been feeling somewhat better if he was showing an interest in food.

“You want a banana, Cowboy?” Peter asked him, snatching one out of the bowl. When Neal nodded at him, Peter pressed a kiss to his nose. “Okay. Daddy will chop one up for you.”

For a moment, Peter considered how he would prepare the fruit while still holding Neal. He decided that, because Neal was in slightly better spirits this morning, that it was worth trying to put the boy down. He waited for the screaming and the tears, but they never came. Instead, Neal quite happily let go of Peter and stood on his own two feet for three seconds before he swayed and fell to his bum.

“Whoopsie,” Peter spoke calmly, when wide, shocked eyes turned up to look at him. Neal was waiting for his reaction – because if Daddy freaked out over his little tumble, that gave Neal cause to freak out too.

“‘oopsie,” The Little parroted with a giggle.

The banana was cut up into bite-sized pieces within minutes. Neal stayed where he was and watched Peter curiously. The Caregiver pulled out a white tray that when attached to the one slightly modified dining table chair, turned it into a high chair.

“Come on then, Cowboy,” Peter called, lifting Neal from the floor and getting him settled in the right chair. He slid the tray into place and popped the plastic plate of banana on top of it. Neal smiled and promptly spat his soother out and shoved a piece of banana into his mouth in its place. He hummed in delight the moment it hit his tongue.

“That’s nice, huh?” Peter chuckled at him, grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl and taking a bite before flicking open the file he’d been looking through yesterday.

Neal was quiet for a few minutes, until he’d cleared his plate.

“More ‘nana?”

Peter looked up at the Little’s voice, almost surprised that the boy had finished already and was asking for more.

“I think I have a hungry monkey on my hands,” He laughed, standing up to get another banana chopped up. He was wary that Neal’s tummy might protest to the fruit, but he wasn’t about to deny the boy some food while he was asking for it – it wouldn’t do him any harm to get _some_ nutrients from the food, even if he did bring it back up again later.

This time though, Neal only ate half of the banana before he started squishing the pieces between his fingers.

“Look, Dada!” Neal called proudly, holding out his banana covered fingers and laughing when Peter pulled a face.

“Maybe not so much a hungry monkey anymore, hey, Cowboy?” Peter scoffed happily, making sure to snap a picture to send to Elizabeth before he started cleaning him up. “More like a mucky pup, eh?”

When he lowered Neal to the ground this time, Neal went immediately to his hands and knees and crawled further into the living room. Satchmo followed him, clearly interested in where the Little was going. Peter watched from the dining table as the dog sniffed Neal’s face and started licking it with a happy wag of his tail, which caused the babe to burst into fits of the cutest giggles.

Peter smiled wide, unable to help himself at the contagious giggling. He was so pleased to see his boy so happy after how he had been yesterday. However, he wasn’t convinced it was going to last all day. He was pretty sure that Neal was currently riding a high thanks to the good night's sleep he’d got. He wouldn’t be surprised if Neal was a bit less agreeable and under the weather again before the morning was out.

-X-

Peter wasn’t wrong.

It was barely 10 am and Neal was wearing a frown that Peter had quickly become accustomed to seeing on his face over the weekend.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Peter asked, when the Little tugged on his trouser leg. Neal was sat on the floor beside him, a purple wax crayon in his hand and a piece of paper full of purple scribbles on the coffee table.

“Mama?”

Peter should have seen this coming. It had been almost 48 hours since Elizabeth had been home and the longest Little Neal had ever gone without seeing her was barely 12. He’d asked about her earlier that morning, but that had been because he’d heard her name and they’d avoided a meltdown because he’d been easily distracted with breakfast. Now, Peter doubted he’d be so lucky.

“Mommy’s at work, Cowboy,” Peter told him. It wasn’t a lie, and it was a line that Neal was used to hearing when he was Little. “Come here, sweetheart – Daddy’s got another story we can read.”

Neal immediately shut him down.

“No.”

“Okay,” Peter brushed off like it was no big deal. “How about a cuddle? Daddy’s feeling pretty lonely up here on the couch all alone.”

“No!” Neal snapped, kicking his legs out in frustration. His foot caught the corner of the coffee table with a dull ‘thud’. He threw his head back dramatically, fat tears already falling from his eyes, and wailed. “Mama!”

Peter sat for a moment, almost stunned as Neal called for his other Caregiver around his crying.

“Okay,” Peter shushed as he scooped the boy up and cradled his head against his shoulder. The chanting for his Mommy didn’t stop. “I think someone’s tired, huh?”

“No!” Neal screamed, but he didn’t push away from the man like his tone suggested he might. “Ma-ma!”

“I know buddy,” Peter reasoned. “I want Mama too. Come on sweetheart.”

Peter started pacing, hoping that the movement would relax the Little, but it was proving unsuccessful. Satchmo grumbled a complaint over on his dog bed in the corner of the room and Peter sympathised with him. The baby’s crying was ear-splitting.

At almost the same time, Peter’s phone rang. It was his work phone and he thought about ignoring it, but it was Diana’s name that flashed up on the screen.

 _“Hi, boss,”_ Diana’s voice spoke before Peter could bark his usual greeting over the sound of Neal’s screaming. _“Wow. Someone’s not happy.”_

“Yeah,” Peter grunted to his fellow agent before shushing Neal again. It made no difference. “If you can’t tell, Daddy isn’t cutting it anymore.”

 _“Peter – you know it’s not like that,”_ Diana scolded him. _“He’s not very well. He’s also extremely young at the moment, and he hasn’t seen his Mom in almost two days. He doesn’t understand.”_

“I know, I know,” Peter sighed. He pressed his phone between his ear and his shoulder and started bouncing Neal slightly. His eyes searched the living room, trying to locate the babe’s soother. “I’m just tired. And I’ve got a headache coming.”

 _“I’m not surprised. He sure has a set on lungs on him,”_ Diana teased. _“When does El get home?”_

“Late Sunday evening,” Peter muttered, giving up on finding the soother Neal had apparently lost since this morning and trotting off to track down another.

_“Ouch. You got your work cut out for you. Are you sure you don’t need Christie to drop by? She said she would – you know how much she love’s Neal.”_

“No, no,” Peter shook his head, pulling open a kitchen draw and finding a sanitizing soother pod, praying to the gods as he reached for it that there would be one nestled inside. He could have cried for joy when the sight of the blue pacifier with the words _‘Prince Charming’_ written on the shield greeted him. He offered it to the babe, who turned his head away from it. “I think we’re definitely on the mend; just tried right now and clearly grouchy. Come on, Cowboy.”

 _“How about Jones?”_ Diana asked. The man in question was a borderline Caregiver. _“Even if he sat with Neal for half an hour so you could catch up on some sleep, maybe?”_

“I appreciate it, Diana,” He sighed, offering the soother to Neal again, who this time did accept it and quietened almost immediately. “But I think I’ve got it covered. Also, I doubt Neal would allow me to hand him to anyone who isn’t El.”

 _“Yeah. You’re probably right,”_ Diana chuckled. _“Well – you managed to get him to stop crying.”_

“For now,” Peter scoffed lightly, resuming his pacing, still determined to get his Little to sleep. “Now, how can I help you?”

-X-

If Neal went down for a nap grumpy, he was downright cranky when he woke up.

“ _Twinkle, twinkle, little star. How I wonder what you are_ ,” Peter sang to the boy, who was trapped in his highchair. The Caregiver knew that if looks could kill, he would be 6 foot under right now. He was almost finished warming a jar of baby food for the Little’s lunch. “ _Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky._ ”

Peter checked the temperature of the _‘Tasty Pumpkin and Chicken’_ , deemed it warm enough, and poured it into a plastic bowl. He took a green plastic spoon out of the cutlery draw and spun on his heel, making a show of approaching the table.

“ _Twinkle, twinkle little star_ ,” Peter continued singing as he placed the bowl down on the dining table and pulled a seat closer to the high chair. “ _How I wonder what you are._ ”

Neal continued glowering at him, but Peter paid him no mind as he sat down.

“You like that song, Cowboy?”

“No.”

“Of course not,” Peter agreed, voice kind and light-hearted, not phased by Neal’s grunt. “Never mind. Daddy’s got some yummy dinner for you!”

“No!”

“Yep,” Peter continued as if they were having a pleasant conversation about the weather. He’d decided to try feeding Neal as normal – he hadn’t been sick since the early hours of the morning, and even though the formula was full of enough nutrients, Peter wanted to give the Little something a little more substantial. “I bet you’re hungry!”

Neal allowed the first spoonful of the orange mush to be deposited in his mouth but promptly spat it back out again. It dribbled down his chin and all down the grey bib that was around his neck.

“Come on, Cowboy,” Peter spoke, trying to keep his voice light and not rise to the blatant challenge. “It’s yummy.”

“No,” Neal snapped, kicking his feet out and catching Peter’s shin with his foot. At the same time, his hand pushed the spoon away and the spoonful of _‘Tasty Pumpkin and Chicken’_ hit Peter right in the cheek.

Peter closed his eyes to take a few deep breaths. He was tired, he had a headache and Neal was _really_ testing his patience.

And then Neal giggled.

Peter opened his eyes. Neal was doubled over the highchair tray, a huge grin suddenly on his face as he laughed at the mess on his Caregiver’s face. Peter couldn't help the cautious smile back at him.

“You think that’s funny, do you?” Peter shook his head, any frustrations he’d just been experiencing vanished. He stood from the table and grabbed the open pack of wet wipes on the kitchen island and wiped the orange food from his face. “Poor Daddy!”

“‘gain Dah-dee!” Neal chanted as Peter retook his seat.

“Oh no, I don’t think so Mister,” Peter scolded, with no heat behind the words. He picked up the spoon to try again.

“Neal?” Neal asked, reaching for the spoon.

“Oh, does Neal want to do it?” Peter hummed, holding the spoon and the bowl just out of reach, teasing him.

“Uh! Uh!” Neal grunted, making grabby hands. “Pees, Dah-dee!”

“Okay, okay,” Peter pretended to relent, placing the bowl on the highchair tray. “Only because you asked so nicely, Cowboy.”

He handed Neal the spoon, pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek, and stood from the table again. He didn’t go far, only to start putting together some lunch for himself. He was sure that there would be more mess made by allowing Neal to feed himself when he was in such a young headspace, but if letting the boy feed himself was what actually got him to eat something then Peter could give it to him.

When Peter sat back down at the table with his food, he noticed he was right. Neal’s face was covered, and so was his bib.

“Uh,” Neal complained, his nose wrinkling in disgust. “Yuck, Dah-dee.”

“I should have known you’d have something to say about my sandwich,” Peter scoffed with an eye roll. Some things didn’t change, no matter what headspace Neal was in; and one of those things was Neal’s hatred of Peter’s deviled ham sandwiches. “Come on Cowboy, eat up!”

But Neal seemed to have had his fill. He slapped the spoon into the bowl twice, and before Peter could try and encourage him to actually take a spoonful of the baby food, the Little purposely tipped the bowl from the tray and onto the floor where it made a wet splattering noise.

Neal looked over the edge of his tray at the mess now covering the floor for a moment before he looked up at his Caregiver.

“Oops.”

-X-

_“How’s my baby?”_

“Hello to you too,” Peter greeted his wife sarcastically. She tutted and impatiently whined his name. “He’s fine, El. He’s doing much better.”

 _“Really?”_ She asked. Peter knew it wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, it was just her Caregiver instincts wanting the confirmation.

“Really,” Peter promised. “He had one and a half banana’s for lunch, he’s had a bottle of formula and about a quarter jar of baby food.”

_“Only a quarter of it?”_

“The rest of it ended up on the floor,” Peter explained like it was no big deal. “Someone thought it was highly amusing.”

Elizabeth was laughing.

“Why you laughing?” Peter teased her, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “It’s not funny. I had to clean it up!”

 _“It’s a little funny,”_ Elizabeth giggled, and Peter couldn’t help it anymore. He broke into a huge smile.

“Okay, maybe a little,” Peter agreed. “But don’t tell him I told you that – getting _‘Tasty Pumpkin and Chicken’_ off the walls was _not_ fun.”

 _“Oh, I miss him!”_ Elizabeth chirped. _“It’s been_ ages _since he’s been this young and I miss it all by being here.”_

“He misses you too, you know.”

_“You’re just saying that.”_

“I’m not! I would know! I was the one that had to try consoling him this morning when all he wanted was you!”

 _“He didn’t look upset in that picture you sent me this morning,”_ Elizabeth chuckled at the memory of it.

“That was the calm before the storm,” Peter grumbled. He looked over at Neal who was led on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was singing _‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star’_ , but his words were slow and sluggish.

 _“That’s usually the way with Neal,”_ Elizabeth observed fondly. _“And how are you, Mr. Burke? You holding up okay?”_

“Well, I’ve got a bit of a headache. But…” Peter paused. Neal had stopped singing halfway through his song, and he looked like he was trying to take some deep breaths.

“Neal?” Peter asked, pulling the phone away from his ear slightly when the Caregiver on the other end of the line started asking what was wrong. “Are you okay, buddy?”

Neal responded by spinning suddenly onto his side and bringing up the orange mush that had been his dinner. He started sobbing loudly.

“El – I’ll call you back,” Peter barked into the phone before he ended the call and dumped the cell on the coffee table. He was at Neal’s side in the blink of an eye.

“What happened, Cowboy?” He asked him as he helped the boy sit up. “I thought we were on the road to recovery, huh?”

Neal obviously wasn’t paying any attention to Peter’s words, even though the Caregiver was speaking mostly to himself. The Little urged again. Peter only just moved out of the way in time to dodge getting covered in the sick himself.

“Okay, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Peter shushed, picking him up. Satchmo was outside, and Peter decided to leave him there while he couldn’t clean up the vomit straight away. He carried Neal up the stairs to the bathroom.

Peter knew that there was no point trying to encourage Neal to sit in the bath without him; he had learned that it was a fight he couldn’t win. So, as the water filled the tub, Peter stripped them both out of their clothes.

It didn’t take long to get Neal washed and dried and rediapered.

“I think we’ve had enough baths this weekend to last a lifetime, hey Cowboy?” Peter chuckled as he did up the poppers of Neal’s orange baby grow (it had a fake inmate number on the left. It was a gag gift from Diana – but Peter and Elizabeth thought it was hilarious and dressed him in it often).

When they were downstairs, Peter settled Neal on the couch with a non-spill sippy cup of cool water. One of the movie channels was 20 minutes into the first Toy Story film, and Peter turned it on. Neal watched the colourful characters move across the screen and the Caregiver felt confident enough to start clearing up the vomit that was starting to stink out the living room.

“You okay there, Cowboy?” Peter asked once everything was clean and the windows and back door were open in an attempt to air the place.

“Dah-dee,” Neal grumbled in want, climbing into the man’s lap when he sat beside him on the couch. Peter covered the boy with a blanket and Neal quickly got himself comfortable. He expected Neal to fall asleep, but the Little just continued to watch the film through half-lidded eyes.

Peter grabbed his cell phone and dialed Elizabeth back.

Peter wanted to close his eyes and get a few minutes shut-eye himself, but he was aware that the last thing his wife had heard before he cut her off was their Little throwing his guts up. He owed her an apology and reassurance that Neal was currently okay. Maybe he was back to feeling sorry for himself, but for the moment he was fine.

“Sorry about that, hun,” Peter apologised when she answered the phone.

_“That’s okay. How’s he doing?”_

“We’re all cleaned up and watching Toy Story, aren’t we, Cowboy?”

Neal grunted at the words that were directed at him, and Elizabeth chuckled lightly at them. Peter could hear the other Caregiver moving around and doing something as they spoke. Peter asked for her opinion on whether they should invite Christie over to check him over but Elizabeth was sure the boy was just suffering from a tummy bug and that they should call her tomorrow if Neal was still vomiting them.

Then Peter heard the unmistakable clicking of a suitcase lock.

“El…” He trailed off. The woman sighed, knowing exactly what her husband had heard.

_“Peter, I’m coming home.”_

“You know you don’t have to…”

 _“I know,”_ Elizabeth cut across him. _“I just can’t stay here and be useless. I need to be with my boy.”_

“What about the event?”

 _“It’s already started. Yvonne can see it through to the end,”_ The woman explained. _“Besides, my client overheard us on the phone and he insisted I come home. He’s a Caregiver himself and can understand how hard it is to be away from your Little normally, let alone when you know they're unwell.”_

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, it’ll be good to have you home.”

 _“Yeah – single parenting is hard, huh?”_ Elizabeth teased.

“You have no idea,” Peter admitted truthfully.

-X-

Elizabeth thanked the kind, chatty taxi driver who reminded her too much of a female Mozzie. She paid her fare and tipped the driver handsomely before climbing out of the car with her suitcase and handbag in tow.

The stairs leading up to her front door felt steep and long, but she climbed them eagerly. She was already reaching into her handbag for her door keys when the front door opened.

Peter was wearing sweats and an old t-shirt, he had bags under his eyes and he looked at his wit's end. In his arms was Neal – very clearly in a much younger headspace than Elizabeth had seen him in a long time. He was wearing a familiar, legless orange baby grow. There were tears streaming down his face, snot dripping from his nose, and a string of vomit hanging from his mouth. His hair was disheveled, he was pale and his eyes were blown wide.

“El,” Peter sighed in relief.

“Mama?” Neal gasped through his tears, the moment he realised it was his other Caregiver in front of him. “Mama? Mama!”

“Hi, Peanut!” Elizabeth cooed, letting go of her suitcase and reaching out to take the Little from Peter. Neal buried his face into her shoulder, and Elizabeth knew that her green jacket was covered in snot, tears, and sick.

“Mama!” Neal wailed, clutching her desperately.

“Mama’s here, baby,” Elizabeth shushed, one hand holding Neal, the other cupping the back of his head. She looked at Peter with big, sad eyes. “Come on, let’s go back inside.”

Peter held the door open for her and she carried the boy over the threshold. Because Neal was taller than her, it made carrying him harder for her. She sat on the stairs so she could bundle him closer. Peter grabbed her suitcase and brought it inside.

Satchmo realised that his owner was home and trotted over to greet Elizabeth with a waggy tail.

“Hi boy,” The woman greeted, rubbing the dog’s ear. “I missed you too!”

“He’s just been sick again,” Peter stated the obvious about Neal, voice a little louder than normal to be heard over the Little’s continuous crying for his Caregiver.

“I arrived just in time, then, hey Peanut?”

“Luckily,” Peter pointed out the small puddle of sick on his shirt that Elizabeth was only just noticing. “As you can see, it wasn’t much this time. But this is like the 10th time I’ve been covered in sick these last two days and I’m sure I reek of it,” He complained with no real malice, over exaggerating his claims slightly.

“Mm, yeah,” Elizabeth nodded. Both her boys, and in fact the house, seemed to hold a sickly smell. It didn’t phase her though. “You do. Go on,” She waved her hand up the stairs. “Go and shower. I’ll sort Neal.”

“Thanks, hun,” Peter smiled at her, bending down to kiss Elizabeth on the lips, and Neal on the top of his head. “Be good, Cowboy.”

“Come on, Peanut,” Elizabeth shushed to the boy who was starting to calm now. She stood up and slowly started making her way up the stairs. Satchmo followed. “Let’s go and get you all cleaned up. And then I think it’s time for bed.”

Up in the nursery, Elizabeth made quick work of cleaning the Little up. As she worked, she chattered away to the boy, whose eyes followed her every move. Although he was no longer crying and there were no more tears, it was clear that it wouldn’t take two seconds to turn the waterworks back on again.

“Mommy missed you so much baby,” She told him as she gently laid him down on the changing mat. “Did you miss me too?”

“Ma-ma,” Neal sobbed from behind the soother Elizabeth had given him. A small tear trickled out the corner of his eye. Elizabeth caught it with her thumb.

“Yeah. I know you did, Sweetheart,” She hushed at him. She bent down to kiss his nose before reaching between the boy’s legs and un-popping the baby grow. “You’re Mommy’s poorly boy, aren’t you?”

Neal whined and rubbed at his eyes with his fists, not letting go of his taggy blanket.

“I know, Peanut, I know,” She hummed. She started stripping him out of the wet diaper he was currently wearing and grabbed a clean one off the shelf above the changing table. At some point over the last two days, Peter had restocked them with the delivery El had made days earlier. She found herself grateful that she had thought to do so – they’d very obviously needed them.

Once she had him cleaned up, she slid the clean diaper underneath him. She rubbed some cream and sprinkled some baby powder into the area, to try and ward off any diaper rash the boy might become susceptible to due to his prolonged period of wearing them before she pulled the diaper up between his legs and taped it securely. Next, she dressed him in a hooded onesie; a simple green one with black, cotton ‘spikes’ that resembled a dinosaur.

She gathered him back up in her arms and took him along to the master bedroom. She wanted to change into something a little more comfortable, but the only way that was going to happen was if she put the baby down. Neal, however, was not having that.

“Mama!” He cried, grabbing onto her when she started to lower him down onto the mattress.

“Just for a minute, Peanut,” She tried to persuade him, although she knew there was no point even trying.

“No, Mama,” He wailed, sounding completely broken.

“Okay, okay,” Elizabeth sighed, sitting on the mattress herself and holding Neal close. The boy wept for another couple of minutes before he settled again with a hiccup. Peter would be out of the shower soon and once he was dried and dressed, he could hold their boy while she took her turn.

When Peter stepped into the room, he was wrapped in only a towel, and in his hand was a bottle of water. She smiled at him and accepted it gladly. As Peter moved over to the cupboard to dry off and dress, Elizabeth moved Neal in her arms so that she was cradling him. The Little’s eyes were closed and as soon as she moved him, he grumbled and whined in complaint.

“Poor boy,” Elizabeth cooed, heart-melting at his cuteness. “I know you’re tired, Sweetheart – but Mommy’s got some nice water for you, hmm?”

She managed to slip the nib of the bottle past his lips, once the boy gave up his soother, and Neal wasted no time taking some deep gulps.

“There’s a good boy,” Elizabeth praised. Neal blinked up at her with sleepy eyes. “Were you a good boy for Daddy while I was gone?” She asked him with a smile, not taking her eyes from his. The boy looked so innocent and venerable and Elizabeth felt honoured that Neal trusted herself and Peter to care for him in this way.

“Yeah,” She carried on, knowing that her voice was calming Neal. “I bet you were. Even if you did throw up on him a million times, hey?”

Peter scoffed as he pulled on a pair of briefs.

“But that just means you love your Daddy, doesn’t it,” Elizabeth beamed down at the boy in her arms, chuckling at her own words that were teasing her husband. “You love your Daddy, Neal – don’t you?!”

“Dah-dee?” Neal asked, voice quiet. He’d spat the bottle out and turned his head, eyes searching for the man in question.

“Daddy’s just there, my sweet boy,” Elizabeth promised, pointing the man out just as Peter tugged a clean t-shirt over his head.

“Boo,” Peter smirked over at them. Neal’s mouth twitched into half a smile, and that only seemed to encourage the male Caregiver. He approached the bed, but then stopped a few steps away. “Oh no! There’s a dinosaur in my bed!” He gasped.

“A Neal-osaur,” Elizabeth corrected the man, just as playfully. She stood and handed the Little over to her husband.

“No,” Peter cried dramatically, taking Neal into his arms and holding him securely as Elizabeth moved over to the cupboard so that she too could change. “The Neal-osaur! Help! He’s got me!”

Neal giggled and settled his head on Peter’s shoulder. Peter didn’t take it any further than that, not wanting to push the Little too far.

“Is Daddy being silly?” Elizabeth chuckled as she sauntered back towards them, already changed into some sleep wear. She held her arms out to the boy who gladly went over to her.

“You want to put him down in his crib?” Peter asked, unsure what the other Caregiver’s plans were. Neal needed to go to bed, but it was still rather early for them to be hitting the hay. That didn’t matter to Peter; he was shattered and wanted nothing more than to curl up in the big bed and cuddle Neal – knowing that they’d both sleep more soundly if they were close. He didn’t know, however, if Elizabeth wanted to talk to him, or just spend some time with him while Neal slept.

“No,” Elizabeth announced, not needing even a second to decide. “It’s been a long day. Neal is poorly – your clearly exhausted and that bed is calling my name. Come on, we’ll all settle down together.”

Peter let Elizabeth climb into bed with Neal, who laid his head on her chest and promptly fell to sleep. Peter left the room to ensure that Satchmo was let out and the house was locked up before he returned and slot himself into bed beside them both.

-X-

Neal woke up in the big bed. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings. He was led on Daddy’s pillow, the man sat up against the headboard beside him. In his hand was an FBI file.

“Hi, Peanut.”

Neal jumped, and turned his head to glance over his shoulder. Sat there was his Mommy, reading a book. He blinked at her twice in disbelief that she was here. And then the memories of the night before came crashing back and he remembered her standing at the front door, and her changing his diaper, and her feeding him a bottle. Still, he was excited to see her and pushed himself up and launched himself into her arms.

“Mama!”

“Hi!” She laughed, engulfing him and pulling him close.

“Did someone forget that Mommy was home?” Peter laughed, loving the sight of his two most favourite people together.

“No,” Neal grumped, squinting his eyes at Peter. It only made the man laugh more.

“It’s okay, baby,” Elizabeth reassured him, trying not to chuckle at his behaviour. “The important thing is that Mommy’s here now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Neal agreed, still glaring at Peter for laughing.

-X-

Elizabeth sat on the chair at the outside table watching Neal in the garden. The Little had woken up slightly older than he had been the past few days, and both his Caregiver’s thought this to be a good sign that he was definitely feeling better.

Neal had a huge smile on his face, colour in his cheeks and he was enjoying the sunshine. He was chasing Satchmo, both dog and boy clearly having a lot of fun. Neal was unsteady on his feet and kept tumbling and falling every so often, but every time he did Satchmo bounded over to him, checked him over before barking to reinstate their game. Neal never stayed down for long, giggling at Satchmo’s kisses before pushing himself back up and carrying on.

He got distracted when a butterfly flapped past him, and quickly chased after it. Elizabeth sipped on her cup of coffee as she watched him. Just as the butterfly reached the edge of the garden, Neal fell again. Satchmo bounded over to him, barking. Neal couldn’t get up because the Labrador stood above him, wagging his tail and licking him all over.

His laughing was beautiful and contagious and Elizabeth’s heart swelled with the amount of love she felt for the boy. Behind her, she heard the back door open and Peter step back out. He’d been inside answering a work call.

“Everything okay?” She asked absentmindedly.

“Yeah – nothing Jones and Diana can’t handle,” Peter told her, sliding into a seat beside her. He looked out to the garden in time to see Neal get back to his feet. “Someone’s having fun.”

“Yep,” Elizabeth smiled at him. “And someone’s also tiring himself out so that he’ll go down for an afternoon nap easier than normal.”

“Oh, really?” Peter playfully mused. “Very wise. Well thought through.”

“I thought so too,” Elizabeth winked at him.

“He’ll want the big bed though,” Peter pointed out.

“I’ve thought of that. Hopefully, he’ll be too tired to notice he’s being put in his crib.”

“It worked for me this weekend,” Peter nodded. “Not sure it’ll pass a second time.”

“You need more optimism, Mr. Bruke,” Elizabeth smiled, before changing the subject. “How are you feeling today?”

“Huh?” He asked, almost surprised at the simple, everyday question.

“Yesterday,” Elizabeth explained. “On the phone yesterday, you mentioned having a headache.”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter shrugged like it was no big deal. “I did,” He paused when his wife gave him a knowing look. He corrected himself. “I do.”

“You don’t think you’re coming down with what Neal’s had, do you?” She asked voice concerned.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Neal’s started with a headache and tiredness. You have both those symptoms.”

“Yes – but I’ve spent the last two days with Neal screaming in my ear almost every waking hour. And every sleeping one too. I think I’m entitled to be tired with a headache.”

“I suppose so,” Elizabeth sighed, feigning exasperation. “You sure you’re okay, though?”

“Never better,” Peter promised.

-X-

Both Peter and Elizabeth agreed that it was easier not to jump straight into the jars of baby food like yesterday and risk upsetting their Little’s tummy again. Neal didn’t seem too unimpressed with the dryer foods he was offered instead and happily munched his way through his slice of toast and apple slices that made up his lunch.

After they’d all eaten, Peter started to clear up and Elizabeth took Neal upstairs to put him down for a nap. She changed his diaper, stripped him down to the vest he was wearing, and paced with him for a minute before lowering one side of the crib and laying the boy down.

“Mama?” He asked her, trying to sit up when she let go of him to fiddle with the mobile above him.

“Shh, baby, come on,” She cooed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She gently pushed him back down and carded her hands through his hair. “It’s time for a little snooze.”

“No,” He drew the word out, sounding much more tired than he first appeared.

“Yeah,” Elizabeth shushed. “Come on, sweetheart – Mommy will sing you a song.”

She started singing, _‘You Are My Sunshine’_ and after only the first chorus, Neal’s eyes were fluttering. By the time she sang the last word – the boy was asleep. Slowly and carefully, she stood and raised the lowered rail until it clicked locked. She made sure the baby monitor was on before leaving the room.

But no sooner than she’d reached the bottom step, the baby monitor lit up and broadcast Neal’s crying.

“You want me to get him?” Peter offered just as he sat down on the couch with a beer in his hand.

“No, it’s okay,” Elizabeth smiled at him, leaving the monitor with her husband before climbing back up the stairs.

“Peanut,” She shushed, turning the lights of the nursery back on. Neal was knelt up in his crib, hands on top of the rail and tears falling down his face. “What’s wrong baby?”

“Mama,” The boy sobbed the moment he saw her. As she approached, he held his arms out towards her in silent request. Elizabeth lowered the side of the cot again and sat on the mattress before gobbling her distressed boy back into her arms.

“It’s nap time, baby,” Elizabeth tried to reason with him. Although she wasn’t sure why – Neal was in such a young headspace that he wasn’t to be reasoned with. “Are you not tired? You did lots of running around this morning, hmm?"

“Cuddles?”

“Cuddles, Peanut?” Elizabeth questioned him. “We’re having cuddles, baby.”

“No,” Neal whined, tone frustrated because his Mommy wasn’t listening to him properly.

“Cuddles in the big bed?” Elizabeth asked, uncertainly, even though she knew that this was what the boy was asking. Neal nodded, his eyes, big and round and wet and sad. Elizabeth caved. “Okay, Sweetheart. We can have cuddles in the big bed.”

She heard Peter on the stairs as she moved down the hall towards their bedroom. The man had been able to hear them on the baby monitor.

“Don’t say it,” She scolded him when she saw his smug face.

“Fine,” Peter chuckled, following her. “But look, if you wanted, I could stay with him. I could use the sleep anyway.”

“Yep. You can get into bed too,” Elizabeth told him with her ‘Mommy’ tone. “We _all_ will.”

“You’re tired enough to sleep?”

“No. But I want to be close to my poorly boys.”

“I’m not poorly,” Peter defended himself half-heartedly, but took his jeans off and pulled a pair of pyjama pants on.

Neal snuggled right up against Elizabeth as she flicked through her planner and corresponded with Yvonne via text message. He was asleep in minutes, and Peter wasn’t far behind him.

-X-

Neal stirred an hour and a half later. He blinked a few times and noticed that he hadn’t moved off of his Caregiver’s chest. He tilted his head up slightly to look up at the woman.

“Hi, baby,” She cooed down at him, feeling his movements. The moment she met his gaze, Neal smiled wide.

“Hi, Mama.”

“Neal!” She beamed back at him, recognising that her boy was suddenly Big again. He started to sit, and Elizabeth could see that he was looking so much better after that nap. “Careful Hunny – Peter’s still sleeping.”

“He okay?” Neal asked as he settled up against the headboard next to Elizabeth.

“I reckon he’s coming down with what you had. But you know what he’s like. Stubborn till the end,” Elizabeth sighed. She put her hand on Neal’s arm. “Never mind that right now – how are you feeling?”

“ _So_ much better,” Neal promised her. “Don’t get me wrong – I don’t feel up to a full meal or anything just yet – but I’m definitely out the other end now.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“That was a rough weekend,” Neal grumbled, thinking back over it all as he rested his head on Elizabeth’s shoulder, enjoying her warmth.

“I bet it was,” She hummed, rubbing up and down his arm. “And how about your headspace? You completely clear of it?”

It was only then that his smile faltered.

“No,” He admitted. “I need to drop again.”

“Okay, Sweetheart,” She soothed, accepting the words. “Do you want some help?”

Neal closed his eyes, almost embarrassed, and nodded. Sometimes he could do it himself, sometimes he needed help, and sometimes he just didn’t want to do it by himself. Right now, he was feeling the latter.

“Do you want to do it now, or wait for Daddy to wake up?”

Neal looked back over at the man on the other side of the bed. He was lightly snoring, but he was really starting to look unwell.

“No, let’s do it now. Peter’s going to need all the sleep he can get, and I don’t know if I’ll last long enough to wait for him to wake up.”

“Okay,” She smiled. “You ready?”

Neal nodded and closed his eyes again. Elizabeth pulled him closer to her and started to sing.

_“Blackbirds singing in the dead of night…”_

The Beatles song was what they called a trigger. It was how they helped Neal slip into his headspace if he was struggling. It was unclear why that was the song that worked, but it did and that’s all that mattered. Sometimes they had to sing the song three times over before he was able to drop. This time, however, Elizabeth hadn’t even reached the chorus before she felt the boy in her arms let go and drop again. It just went to show how close to his headspace he’d actually been.

“There we go, my sweet boy,” Elizabeth cooed at him. “Is that better?”

“Yeah, Mama,” He told her, voice back to having the slight lift it took on when he was Little. “Thank you.”

“Oh, Peanut. You’re more than welcome,” She gushed, planting a kiss on the boy’s forehead. She recognised that this time, he hadn’t dropped quite so young. From first observations, he seemed to be about 5. “You sure you’re feeling better?”

“Yup,” Neal told her, sitting back up. He looked over his shoulder again at Peter. “Daddy isn’t.”

“No,” Elizabeth sighed, concerned at her still sleeping husband. “He will be though, don’t you worry.”

“We’ll look after him,” Neal decided, sounding confident in himself.

“Yes, we will,” Elizabeth smiled, loving the Little’s attitude. “Shall we start by making him some cookies?”

Neal’s face lit up, which gave Elizabeth all the answer she needed. The boy eagerly climbed out of the bed after his Caregiver.

“Can I lick the spoon?” Neal asked cheekily as he followed his Mommy down the stairs.

-X-

Peter had stirred when he felt Neal and Elizabeth climb out of bed. He hadn’t followed them, still feeling tired and groggy and choosing instead to turn over and go back to sleep. He hadn’t slept well since then, tossing and turning and fidgeting in his sleep. One moment he was too hot, the next he was cold. And his head was pounding. He felt like he was thoroughly hungover.

He came too when the bedroom door creaked open and the whispers of his Little and his wife drifted over to him, along with an amazing smell of freshly baked goods.

“Shhh,” Elizabeth scolded the giggling Little quietly, clearly trying to hold back her own laughter. “You’ll wake him.”

“But he’s been sleeping a _long_ time, Mommy,” Neal’s complained back, voice hushed. “I want a cuddle.”

“I know, Peanut,” Elizabeth placated him. “But Daddy’s poorly. We’ve got to let him sleep. Come on – put the cookie on the bedside table and let’s go downstairs. We can make him a get well soon card, yeah?”

Neal sighed sadly but tip-toed towards the bed. Peter didn’t feel like opening his eyes and having a conversation right now, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest properly again knowing that his boy wanted him.

He watched through half-lidded eyes as Neal placed a small plate with a single cookie on the nightstand.

“That for me, Cowboy?” He asked, voice rough.

“Daddy?” The Little gasped quietly, dropping to his knees beside the bed so he could be face to face with his Caregiver. “You’re awake.”

“Hmm,” Peter groaned, closing his eyes for a second and reaching out his hand to curl his fingers through Neal’s hair. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I am, Daddy,” Neal promised him with a small smile.

Peter opened his eyes again and looked over his boy. It only just seemed to click that the boy wasn’t as young as he had been for the rest of the weekend.

“Me and Mommy made cookies for you and Mommy let me lick out the bowl!”

“Well,” Peter breathed, trying so hard to focus on the words. His head was pounding and he felt like he couldn’t concentrate. He just wanted to go back to sleep, but he soldiered on for Neal. “You really must be feeling better.”

“Come on, Peanut,” Elizabeth’s voice soothed, reading her husband. “Let’s let Daddy go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” The Little whined, but leaned forward to press a kiss to his Caregiver’s cheek. “I’ll draw you a picture, Daddy.”

“Thanks, Cowboy,” Peter smiled at him. “I’d like that a lot.”

In the blink of an eye, Neal was gone and Elizabeth was hanging over him.

“Here, sit up,” She was ordering him, gentle hands helping him. She then pushed a glass of water into his right hand and tipped two paracetamols into his other. “Take these; they’ll help.”

He downed them quickly and went to lie back down.

“And there’s a bucket right here,” She told him, making a show of putting it on the floor beside the bed. “In case you need it.”

“I won’t,” He grumbled, already closing his eyes again. He remembered the gentle press of Elizabeth’s lips to his forehead, and Neal’s voice saying _‘Love you tonnes Daddy’_ , but he didn’t remember them leaving.

When he next woke up, it was late in the afternoon. He could hear the sounds of his wife and their Little downstairs, but his tummy suddenly turned and he knew that he was about to be sick. He moved on autopilot, out the bedroom, down the hall, and into the bathroom where he proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl.

-X-

“Peter Burke, taking a sick day,” Neal announced the next morning, as he entered the master bedroom and brought over a glass of water. “I didn’t think it was possible.”

Peter didn’t say anything but narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him. He accepted the glass of water and took a few sips. Neal had woken up big today it seemed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Neal scoffed with a cheeky smile. “Pretty much as good as new.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Peter took a few more sips before putting the glass down on his bedside table. He massaged his forehead, the headache that he had was getting worse again and his tummy was complaining at him. “And your headspace?”

“Today’s definitely a Big day, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Good,” Peter nodded. “Then why aren’t you dressed?”

Neal looked down at the clothes he was wearing – plain pyjama pants and a loose top. He didn’t need Peter to elaborate to know the man was questioning why he wasn’t dressed for work, not suggesting that he was naked. He shrugged and moved around the bed to climb onto the mattress beside the Caregiver.

“If you’re not going into the office then neither am I.”

Peter watched Neal for a moment as the other man grabbed the TV remote off Elizabeth’s bedside table. Before the Little could switch it on, Peter snatched the remote from his hands.

“Yes, you are.”

“Oh, come on Peter,” Neal complained. “I’m going to stay here and look after you.”

“You’ll just make me pull my hair out,” Peter teased light-heartedly, with a small smile.

“Probably,” Neal smiled back, chuckling to himself as he recalled Elizabeth telling him only days previously that he would do exactly that.

“But don’t worry,” Peter continued. “El is working from home today so she’ll be able to look after me. Diana and Jones on the other hand have been working on a big case all weekend and could do with your help. You also can’t just take the day off because you want to.”

“Yeah, I can,” Neal scoffed. Peter looked at him and he hurried to correct himself. “That is if you let me. You’re my boss after all.”

“I am. That’s why I’m telling you to go in,” He prompted. He was half a breath away from giving in to the Little, he couldn’t be dealing with a pointless argument like this while he was feeling so crap, but something made him persevere. “You’ve been stuck at home all weekend, Neal. Going into the office might do you some good.”

“I don’t think it will,” Neal tried to counterpoint.

“Go and get dressed Neal,” Peter ordered, shuffling down the bed so that he could lie back down again. His tummy was really starting to protest now, and lying down seemed to help combat the feeling slightly. “You’re already going to be late.”

“Fine,” Neal grumped. He disappeared for 15 minutes and came back in a familiar fitted suit, a red tie, and a black hat.

“You’re really going to make me go?” He pouted, sitting on the edge of the mattress next to Peter.

“You need it,” Peter told him, sorrowfully. “There's a file on the dining table. Take it with you. My notes are inside.”

“I know; I read it this morning.”

“Of course you did,” Peter rolled his eyes, took a few deep breaths when he felt like he was about to throw up. The feeling died away as quickly as it came, and he looked up at Neal.

The man looked concerned and Peter felt like a jerk for sending him in, but he stood by what he had said; Neal needed it.

“Go to sleep Peter,” Neal ordered kindly, a hand resting on the Caregiver’s shoulder. “I’ll see you later.”

Peter watched the boy stand and make his way to the door. Just before he left, Peter called out to him.

“Neal?”

“Yeah?”

“As your boss, I give you permission to leave work early today. You can leave at lunch time if you want, okay?”

“Thanks, boss,” Neal spoke both sarcastically and appreciatively with a mock salute before he disappeared. As he walked down the stairs, he called back up. “Love you, Pops!”

Peter chuckled at his cheeky tone, and let his eyes fall closed again the moment he heard the front door shut.

-X-

Peter woke half an hour later when Elizabeth brought him some toast to nibble on, reminding him that it was better for him to eat something despite how sick he was. She offered to sit with him, but Peter told her that he would be okay and that he would call her if he needed anything.

He threw up the toast 20 minutes after that and another hour later he was woken again by the bedroom door creaking open.

“Neal?” He asked groggily.

“Hey,” Neal smiled. He was wearing his sleep wear again as he tip-toed into the room. “Sorry – I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Did I dream telling you to go to work?” Peter asked in all seriousness, trying to remember whether it had actually happened.

“No,” Neal admitted, climbing into the bed and snuggling under the covers. “Turns out that if my boss, Special Agent in Charge - Peter Burke is sick, I report to Special Agent - Diana Berigan. She sent me home.”

“Did she send you home or did you con your way into coming home?” Peter grunted, expecting the answer to be the latter.

“I’m offended,” Neal joked, reaching across his Caregiver to take up the TV remote the man had confiscated two hours earlier.

“I’m phoning Diana.”

“Be my guest,” Neal offered, switching the TV on and turning the volume down to a quiet, respectable level. He flicked through the channels as Peter reached for his cell phone.

“Diana?”

 _“Hi, boss. How you feeling?”_ The woman chirped to him.

“Rubbish,” He informed her. “But that’s not why I’m phoning.”

_“You want to know if I sent Neal home or if he just skipped out?”_

“Well?”

 _“I sent him home, Peter,”_ Diana sighed. _“He was too distracted here.”_

“Distracted?”

_“You’re his Caregiver Peter. You might come to the office without him, but Neal rarely comes without you. It’s probably alien to him. Also – he’s worried about you. It was clear he couldn’t get you off his mind.”_

“Considering you’re not a Little or a Caregiver yourself, you seem to have a good understanding of them,” Peter offered up, not unkindly.

 _“You pick it up when your fiancé is a Little specialist,”_ Diana chuckled. _“Look – I sent Neal home with some homework. I thought he might just work better at home where he could be close to you.”_

“Yeah – you’re probably right. Okay, thanks, Diana.”

“See,” Neal smirked when Peter put his phone back on the nightstand.

“Okay,” Peter turned over to face the middle of the bed. He closed his eyes, ready to go back to sleep already. “But you can turn the TV off and go through those files I know Diana sent home with you.”

“But…” Neal looked down at Peter in disbelief. The man beside him looked so rubbish, that Neal couldn’t find it in himself to argue anymore. “Okay. But can I sit here and do it?”

“As long as your quiet,” Peter grunted before yawning and shifting so he more comfortable.

“You won’t hear a peep from me,” Neal promised before he slipped out the room to go and grab the files that he’d brought home with him. He told Elizabeth what he would be doing as he grabbed himself one of the cookies they’d baked yesterday and a glass of wine despite it barely being 10.30.

As he climbed back into the bed, Peter stirred again. He grumbled an inaudible complaint.

“Sorry,” Neal whispered to him. “You can go back to sleep now. I’ll stay still.”

Peter made a noise that sounded like half a laugh and Neal rolled his eyes at his Caregiver’s obvious disbelief. Neal flipped open the top file and started reading just as Peter drifted back off to sleep.

“You were there for me when I was sick,” Neal spoke quietly to the sleeping man. “I’m going to be here for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing this, I got so many ideas for new stories for this series!!  
> I'm thinking a 16-year-old Neal being arrested by local police for being caught doing things he shouldn't be? Nothing overly illegal - maybe a little underage drinking?  
> I'm thinking Neal hasn't dropped in some weeks and both Peter and Elizabeth are getting concerned.  
> How about the Burkes finally finding a babysitter that is more than willing to look after Little Neal?  
> Also - I love the idea of Neal having a Little friend. Imagine sleepovers and playdates and mischief!! I've been rewatching White Collar recently and I quite like the idea of Sara being that Little. (Mostly because whenever Peter walks in on them bickering he tends to say things like "you kids alright?"). Do you like the idea of Sara being a Little as well? If not, who could it be instead?
> 
> If you have any more ideas for this series that you think might be good - hit me up!! I can't make any promises, but who knows - it could spark my inspiration!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!!


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